


Writer

by Dreams_With_Words



Category: Original Work
Genre: Chains, Other, Trapped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 08:36:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10185242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreams_With_Words/pseuds/Dreams_With_Words
Summary: What can a young writer come up with when pushed against a stump? Well, John has run into this problem. How does he solve it? Well, that's for you to read and find out.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I present to you all yet another story written in my class. A story within a story written at the beginning of the year. This one was the one I wanted to enter into a contest, but I missed the deadline. I was told it was the best they had read out of the group, but I'll let you all be the judge of that. Please, enjoy. :)

I sat like a pile of goo in my chair, twiddling my pencil between my fingers.

_Click! Click! Click!_

Thoughts were running around in circles through my head like a cat chasing a mouse. Unfortunately for me, I was nowhere near fast enough to catch it in my claws and manipulate it to my liking. This was the third time I’ve read this story and each time I found something wrong. There was no way I was going to be able to finish this if I couldn't even satisfy myself with my own work.

I hate this assignment, I thought to myself.

I began gnawing on my pencil, re-reading my work for the fourth time today, looking for anything that didn’t particularly sit well with me. Suddenly I felt a bang on the back of my head. Waves of pain shot down from my neck to my spine, stiffening me for a minute. It didn’t take me too long to figure out what caused it. Rubbing my head, I turned to glare at the giant who sat behind me. A green textbook was gripped firmly in his hands and the biggest, idiotic smile was plastered on his face.

Drake Ollis…

“Whatcha doing there Johnsey?” he asked in a cheery tone.

I didn't answer him for a while, causing his smile to spread wider on his face. He knew I was peeved beyond my peak, but being as small and weak as I was he knew I wouldn't open my trap about it. I sighed and pointed down at my paper. “I’m doing our assignment like were supposed to do.” My tone came out a little ruder than I intended it to, but I was really in no mood for his childish games.

Sometimes, I wonder why I’m even friends with Drake. We were complete opposites in every field imaginable. I always got my work done, sometimes pulling all-nighters if need be. I always kept my room tidy, never letting a spot of dust be shown. I never drank, smoke, and I barely cussed. I was liked by both my teachers and my parents.

However, Drake was a whole other story. He’s one of those kids who would sock you in the face for your lunch money or smoke nature sticks outside in the school parking lot. He never gave a single damn about his education, but somehow made it past 3 years in high school. He’s cocky, obnoxious, and above all, he was a complete doofus.

And for some odd reason, I stuck around to watch him make a complete fool of himself.

The smile on his face faded and was instead replaced with a smirk. He reached his arm above my head and snatched my paper from off my desk. I imagined it was pretty easy since I was practically sliding out of my chair. I was about to confront him for taking my paper without my permission, but I kept my mouth shut. There was no point. If he wanted to he could hold me back with one finger.

His eyes skimmed down the paper, eyeing it like he would find some treasure hidden beneath it if he looked hard enough. Once he finished he applauded me. “Dang Johnsey! What you have here is pretty good. If I didn't know any better I’d say you’ll become the next J.K. Rowling or Stephen King!”

I grabbed my paper and eyed him. “How can I trust the words of a dummy who can’t even spell ‘photosynthesis’?”

He chuckled, pointing a finger at my paper. “I’m telling you the truth, man. You're a natural! You need to start being more confident in yourself…” I thought about what he said and would've almost believed him if he hadn’t added, “… I mean if a dummy like me is interested in your stories you're doing something right.”  “You’d be interested if you saw a dirty crock float down the river bank!” I spat. His head wiped around in my direction, eyes wide in surprise from my sudden outburst. It was silent for a minute until a small huff escaped his lips. Soon he began to howl in laughter. I felt a smile of my own creep onto my face, and I tried my best not to burst into my own fit of giggles.

…

“Seriously, though, I have no idea what to do. This assignment is ridiculous!” I held the cold, plastic phone to my ear fumbling around the kitchen for some coffee to brew. The kitchen always smelled like coffee and wood. I always drank coffee when I couldn't figure out something.

“Your story you wrote already is good enough.”  “Says you! You haven’t even started yours!” Though I’m sure you’d fail either way…

“Johnsey, you’re a good writer. What is it you’re having trouble with?”

I added some water to the lump of coffee beans and pressed “START” on the coffee maker. I sat down at the dining table, scratching my head. “I’m having trouble understanding my character. I don’t know how to explain it. I put them through a situation, but I don’t know how to connect with them. Or rather, I don’t know how to relate to them…emotionally.”

Silence followed. I figured he wasn’t really listening to me anyway. After another few moments of silence, a ding echoed through the kitchen. I got up and proceeded to pour the warm liquid into my favorite cup. The smell of coffee beans wafted through the air, the heat from the liquid warming my cheeks.

“What’re you drinking?” I heard a muffled out Drake ask through the phone. I picked it up and placed it back to my ear. “Coffee?” I replied. It came out as more of a question.

“Ok. Do you like yours black or with cream?”

“How is that related to my—“

“Just answer, Johnsey.” he cut me off.

I was beginning to get fed up. What did my drink have to do with my problems?

“Fine. I like it black,” I replied.

“Alright. Now, when you think of the color ‘black’ what is the first thing that comes to mind?”

I paused and thought about it for a moment. Black could be anything; clothing, paint, ink, paper, pencils. My mind wandered off trying to find other things that reminded me of black. I thought about my character and what I was putting them trough. I thought about the things I was planning to do to them.

Then it hit me like a truck.

“Darkness…” I said quietly.

Another few seconds of silence followed before he went, “Now, if I’m assuming correctly that your character’s in a pretty bad situation, how would you feel being in their position?”

“I’d feel lost,” I replied immediately without thought. A chuckle came through the other end of the line. “Good. Now when you write about your character imagine you’re them and write how you’d feel.” Something began to bubble in my throat. Once it surfaced and escaped past my lips I realized it was laughter. I laughed until my sides began to hurt and tears welled up in my eyes.

“How did you get so smart all of a sudden, you idiot?”

“Just trying to help out my genius of a friend.”

…

The day came when we had to present out stories to the class. It came almost too fast now that I think about it. Thanks to my lack of good luck, and my friend who's mouth was the size of the Grand Canyon, I was chosen to go first. Nerves started to build up and my anxiety took over.

A knot formed in my stomach as I forcefully trudged my way up to the front of the room. I stood in front of the podium, looking out at all my classmates. I felt like I was looking over the top of a skyscraper. Their eyes stared me down as if I had a sticky note with the words ‘Idiot’ taped to my head.   I coughed a little, trying to regain my nerves. No matter what they thought this was my story and I worked my butt off to make it. If they don’t want to enjoy my work so be it. I breathed it, bringing my paper up to eye level, and finally began.

 

 

Light  
by John Wallace.

_It's dark. It's dark. It's dark. ITS DARK!! LET ME OUT! GET ME OUT! SOMEONE! ANYONE! I BEG OF YOU! DON’T LEAVE ME ALONE IN THE DARK!_

I sat up with my knees pressed against my chest. The air was colder than ice and I could feel the goosebumps beginning to form across my arms. My skin continued to increase with sensitivity from the cold. I shivered violently and it only progressed as the minutes passed by. No… I shouldn’t say minutes. I’ve been sitting here for so long I’ve forgotten how time even worked. For me, time didn’t exist anymore. Time was now nothing more than a myth that faded into existence.

I stared off into the darkness. Though I couldn’t see anything I could see clearly. I saw the bustling of the people coming in and out of work. I saw the smiles of families while they sat down for dinner. I saw the tears of losing a loved one. I saw the sun shining down on the Earth, blessing it with the ability to show its true colors and form.

Oh, how I longed to see the light. How I longed for the feeling of freedom. I’ve completely forgotten how beautiful the light is. I’ve forgotten how warm and welcoming it can be. Now I was surrounded by nothing. I was consumed by the nothing; chewed and broken down and now I’m here.

A small bit of hope rested in the pit of my stomach, however. Hope that through the darkness I would see a small glint of light. Hope that someone, anyone, was looking for me. Hope that someone would call out to me. Hope that I could see the light of day one last time.

Who’s sick mind thought they could do this to me? Who I ask, who?! No, I shouldn't react like this. Not when it was all my fault. I brought this upon myself and now I was being punished for it. If I had known this was the outcome I would've stopped myself. They can’t keep me here, they just can’t! Maybe there's a way out.

Are there walls around me? I got up to my feet and began to move forward. Or what I assumed to be forward. My legs wobbled violently beneath me as I pushed my arms to the front of me. I reached blindly through the darkness. Waiting for my hands to brush up on a flat surface that would give me the tiniest bit of information on where I was.

Suddenly, something yanked onto my leg causing me to fall forward onto my face. The force from the impact caused my head to bang violently. I laid there for a while, letting the pain fade before I came to my senses. Something wasn’t right.

I got up once more but was once again brought back down. This time I was able to catch myself. Something's holding me back. I let my hands travel down my hip, my calf, and lastly landing on my ankle. However, unlike the rest of my body, I did not feel skin. Something was around me and it was thick and cold. I went down lower and felt individual rings attached to each other.

_Cling! Rattle! Cling!_

I began to chuckle quietly to myself. The more the realization began to wash over me, the louder my chuckling got.

Chuckling turned into laughing. Laughing turned into screaming. Screaming turned into sobbing. Sobbing turned into whimpering. I felt something in the pit of my stomach bubble, almost like a witches brew. I was so full of fear and rage that I lost it.

Completely. I banged my fist against the ground. Pain shot up through my arms and after a while I could feel what I assumed to be blood dripping down my knuckles. I scratched at my skin letting the cold air burn deep into the cuts I’d left behind. My lip began to bleed how hard I’d been biting down on it.

Why did this happen to me? What did I do so wrong that I would be put through this kind of torture? I understand that what I did was crossing the line, but to put me through this as punishment is simply too much! I swear, if I had known back then that this was my eternal punishment I wouldn't have done what I did. I wouldn't have threatened her life. I wouldn't have brought down the blade on her and silenced her. God, I’m sorry for what I’ve done. Please, someone! Anyone! Please don’t leave me to suffer here!

I laid on my side, feeling the coldness of the ground freeze up the side of my body. I continued to cry. The salty taste of my tears mixed with the metallic taste of my blood. It was foul.

As I began to relax and exhaustion started to overtake me I could've sworn I saw something. No. It’s not real. Not in the place I was in. I refused to believe what I was seeing. I knew I’d been in the dark for too long and I knew I was probably hallucinating like a meth addict who was taking too many turns at the bowl. But even still that small bit of hope in the pit of my stomach pushed me to believe what I was seeing before me. What did I see?

I could've sworn, through my slitted eyes, that I saw a light in the distance. And someone running, reaching out to take me away. To help me escape the darkness. To let me see the light of day. To free me from the chains I’ve been bestowed upon. To set me free.

And all I could do was smile as the thoughts of early morning rays of light flooded my mind, sending me off to sleep.

  
…

I don’t know when the tears started falling. I didn’t know when my body began to shake or when the teacher stared at me in awe. All I could do was sit there and watch my classmates observe me with concern. I could tell from their facial expressions that they knew why I was crying.

As a writer, I believe you have to be able to feel an emotional connection with your character. If that character's sad you have to be sad; if they're happy you're happy etc. I took Drake’s advice and did everything I could to be able to relate to my character. And now it really feels like it paid off in the end. 


End file.
